LYRICS
Use A− / A+ to adjust text sizeSilver Palomino
A mother dies, leaving her young son to come to terms with the loss. In remembrance of Fiona Chappel, for her sons Tyler and Oliver.I was barely 13 years oldShe came out of the Guadalupe's on a night so coldHer coat was frosted diamonds in the sallow moon's glowMy silver palominoSixteen hands from her withers to the groundI lie in bed and listen to the soundOf the west Texas thunder rollMy silver palominoI track her into the mountains she lovedWatch her from the rocks aboveShe'd dip her neck and drink from the winter flowsMy silver palominoOur mustaneros were the very best, sirBut they could never lay a rope on herNo corral will ever holdThe silver palominoIn my dreams bareback I rideOver the pradera low and wideAs the wind sweeps out the draw'Cross the scrub desert floorI'd give my riata and spursIf I could be forever yoursI'd ride into the serrania where no one goesFor my silver palominoSummer drought come hard that yearOur herd grazed the land so bareMe and my dad had to blowtorch the thorns off the prickly pearAnd mother, your hand slipped from my hairTonight I wake early the sky is pearl, the stars aglowI saddle up my red roanI ride deep into the mountains along a ridge of pale stoneWhere the air is still with the coming snowAs I rise higher I can smell your hairThe scent of your skin, mother, fills the air'Midst the harsh scrub pine that growsI watch the silver palominoMustaneros: MustangersPradera: PrairieRiata: RopeSerrania: SierraPrickly Pear: Cactus
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